The journey through the ravine was treacherous. Ash from earlier
skirmishes hung low, clouding the road ahead. Li Xian led her medics on foot
where horses could not pass, each carrying medicine chests, poultices, and
stretchers.
Drums of war echoed faintly through the hills.
Sky was gone — soaring high, racing faster than wind to the Crown Prince's
outpost.
When they reached the outskirts of the battlefield, the scene was worse than
they imagined. Smoke choked the air, soldiers stumbled with wounds too
deep for cloth alone, and blood stained the dry grass.
Li Xian didn't pause.
> "Start triage. Prioritize those still breathing. You—boil water. You—splint
the wounded. Move!"
Her voice carried like a commander's, but her hands were that of a healer.
Calm. Steady. Precise.
She fell to her knees beside a young foot soldier, no older than sixteen,
gasping with a chest wound.
> "Stay with me," she whispered, applying pressure. "Look at me. Not the
sky."
The boy blinked, then smiled weakly. "You're real."
From the north hill, a trumpet rang.
Suddenly, Sky returned — wings wide, feathers flared, circling overhead. He
let out a powerful cry that silenced even the wounded.
Then — hooves thundered.
The Crown Prince's banners appeared, and behind them — hundreds of
fresh troops. Cavalry, archers, supply carts.
Prince Zhao Wen rode at the front, armor gleaming.
Li Xian looked up from the soldier she was treating, her fingers bloodied,
her expression unreadable.
He dismounted and walked to her.
> "You called. I came."
She nodded once. "We need clean tents and water lines. There are more
bleeding than standing."
Zhao Wen turned to his men. "You heard her!"
The tide turned. Under Li Xian's direction, the camp grew organized.
Soldiers found hope in her hands. Some whispered she had the heart of the
empress they had always needed.
And through it all, Sky circled above — not just a bird, but a banner.
> A symbol of hope, and of the woman who refused to let her people die
alone